When I was nothing more than a little blip in my mother’s womb, my motherland was at war. India was raising hell for peace with its very own neighbour, Pakistan. Papa was at war too, braving it with all that he had and more. My maternal grandmother had a strong belief that it would only be the sheer luck of the little blip that would decide the fate of her father. Too much pressure, I know! Papa came back. Yes, he did, and that too, unhurt.
But not all little blips had a fate like mine. Amongst umpteen was the two-year-old Gurmehar Kaur. She lost her father Captain Mandeep Singh in the line of duty. I will refrain from mentioning the reasons here, for that has been discussed way too much.
Sixteen years later, the little blip is of the age to be able to differentiate between hatred and detest. However, for this country, she still can’t really decide.
Until one evening, when she saw her face flash on the TV screen. We all know what happened to Gurmehar after this, what we don’t is how she braved it all. Her idea of peace came out a year and a half later, in the form of a book called, “Small Acts of Freedom”.
The world is now trying to understand her through the book, and slowly, they are starting to believe that nations don’t really indulge in killing people. Wars do. Wars are audacious enough to germinate hatred between nations and let so many little blips across the length and breadth have grim fates.
Gurmehar’s placard had read, “Pakistan didn’t kill my dad. War killed him.”
And if she ever reads this, I want her to know that I couldn’t agree more and so does the little blip.
And together we wish, that her idea of peace takes shape and begins existence soon.